last thing I remember is running for the door
by cryptic rose grunge is dead
Summary: seris of unrelated drabbles based on my awkward hippie music. Could be anything, it is at the will of my wonky ipod. Probably mostly Johnlock, but i do have a couple mormor and parentlock stuff. If you want to see me attempt any song just send me the name and who its by and i will TRY to not fail you my lovely sherlockian. Dont ask me why i named it what i did. I have no idea. @u@
1. Wake up by Arcade fire

John Watson hated nights. Well he hated the nights where dreams plagued his subconscious. Which were most. Normal people dreamed of yearnings from deep within their soul, or kittens. But John had never been considered normal. Every time he closed his eyes, and let himself slip below the blurred line that separated reality from the world of our minds, he could feel the burning sun scorch his flesh as he ran through the writhing shroud of people, and the shimmering curtain of bullets to kneel at a faceless, fallen comrades side. Every night he would rifle through his med-bag, trying in vain to bandage the gory wounds, the man was dieing, his unknown friend was dieing. He could hear the cries of pain and fear as he begged for John to help him. John was unable to do anything. Then there was the loud crack of a gun fired nearby, paired with an excruciating white hot spiral of pain in his left shoulder and the pungent tang of blood. Needless to say, he woke screaming every night. Once the vivid flashbacks cleared his tormented mind, like mist in sunshine, he always heard sweet violin music drifting up through the flat. The next thing he knew the sun was streaming in trough his windowpane, and casting absent rainbows around the room. Sometimes his mind would be absent during sleep. It was a welcome break, the peace fluttered across his synapses like the wings of a rare butterfly. There was no violin music on these nights.

…

Two nights ago John dreamt of war. Of falling bodies ridden with bullets and blood sweeping the desert, his empty cry fading into a starless night. When he opened his eyes the room around him was a horrid dark unknown. His head began to spin and he felt an undeniable sense that someone's life was coming to an end… Most likely his. A few gentle strands of music from below lulled him into a blissful state, and he fell asleep to the wondrous melody flowing from his flatmate's violin. One night ago he was running through the streets of London hand in hand with a maniac, his maniac. He secretly loved it. If only he knew what would follow.

…

"SHERLOCK!" The cry went unrecieved.

"Goodbye John." Came the flat reply, void of any emotion. He felt himself running, his feet making hollow thuds on the pavement. Suddenly something snagged his foot and attempted to pull him down. From the ground came hands, thousands of bloody hands, cracked through the pavement like they were growing out of it. They grabbed at him, dragged him to the ground.

"NO!" He felt the air gush out of his lungs as he collided with the cement. The hands grasped him greedily, dead nails digging into his flesh gouging out welts of skin where fresh blood pooled. His cry of pain was lost in a burst of manic laughter and a sing-songey voice echoed from all around him.

"What's the rush Johnny boy?" He struggled harder, causing his wounds to deepen. He extended his hand to the dark figure perched on the ledge above him. Every wound John received soaked through the clothes on Sherlock's body, but he showed no signs, not even when the porcelain complexion of his face was marred. Bloody wounds bloomed all across it, drops falling like burning tears to splatter to the ground so many feet below. In his last moments he turned to look at John, his eyes held all of the emotions the rest of his body lacked, and also one John couldn't quite place. His pupils began to grow until they engulfed his entire eye. Lovely crystal blue turned into deep pits of unforgiving black. He extended one trembling hand out toward John; his coat billowing behind him in the nonexistent wind. Then he stepped off. Well it was more like he stepped forward, the ground ceased to exist below him, and gravity stole him away. As he fell the world behind him turned grey and lifeless. John never saw him hit the pavement. But he heard it. He would never forget that sound. It would haunt him for the rest of his life, no matter how short he wished that would be.

…

He screamed himself raw, he didn't even know when he had started. He screamed until he could taste blood. He wasn't sure if it was real or not, frankly he didn't care. His eyes were swollen from the tears that wouldn't cease, and his head was spinning and delusional from the lack of oxygen, he seemed to forget how to breathe. John body was wracked with involuntary spasms of pure sorrow.

"Sherlock." He whispered in agony.

"Sherlock?"

"SHERLOCK!" He could feel himself unravel when no response met his ears. His voice was hoarse and hitched as he cried into the dark, airless void, the name of the man he loved on his tongue. There was no violin music on this night.

,


	2. Undone by duran duran

The flat was dark when Sebastian entered, his AK-47 swung across his back. He heaved a heavy sigh; this was not a good sign. He let his gun slip to the floor with a semi-muted clang. "Jim?" he called as he kicked his shoes off and dropped his jacket next to his gun. "Jim, you allright?" There was no answer. He started towards the livingroom blindly, swearing under his breath when his leg collided with an unknown object. He hopped over to the light switch rubbing his knee in an attempt to staunch the mild, but inconvenient pain. The second the light came on there was a high pitched scream as Jim fell off the couch and into a writhing huddled mass on the floor. Seb quickly switched the light off and the room was plunged back into darkness. Not even the moon was present for the blinds were drawn shut. "Jimmy?" Seb cooed as he felt his way over to the mastermind. A pained whimper was his response. "Hey, its ok…" Seb squatted down and carded his fingers gently through Jim's sweaty hair.

"No it is very much not okay!" Jim let out another scream. He honestly sounded like he was being tortured. He probably was. Violent tremors were wracking his fragile body.

"Relax Jimmy." Seb pulled Moriarty onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him.

"NO! DON'T TOUCH MEEE!" Jim struggled to get off, he thrashed and screamed and squirmed, but Seb had a firm grip.

"Calm the fuck down sweetie."

"I AM PERFECTLY CALM!" Tears began to pour from his eyes and he nuzzled into his Sebby's neck, defeated.

"Yeah, I can see that." Seb pulled Jim closer and rocked him gently. "Shhhhh Jimmy, it's ok, you're safe now. He can't touch you anymore. I wont let him hurt you anymore." Jim's violent thrashing gradually turned into a horrible trembling. Seb could feel Moriarty's heart beating erratically, his breath coming out hitched and hot against Seb's neck. "Calm down now love."

"I CAN'T!" Jim screeched as he jerked unexpectedly out of Seb's grip. "I… I just can't Sebby…" Another sob shook his thin frame, and he collapsed back into Sebastian's arms. "I can't, I can't, I can't…" He whimpered over and over again. Seb began rocking him again, whispering sweet nothings in his ear in an attempt to soothe his tormented soul.

"Jimmy, it's ok now." _He was fine when I left him an hour ago… _Seb thought his heart clenching terribly. Jim sniffled and snuggled closer to him. Seb pressed his lips to the other mans temple.

"Sebby" He sobbed, "Don't you ever leave me again."

"I never will boss." _He knows that's a lie_

"You promise?"

"I promise." _I'll never leave you willingly Jim. That's all I can do. _

"If you ever break that promise I will literally murder you." Jim murmured with his eyes closed, he was so adorable when was sleeping, or almost sleeping.

"Feelin' better then?" Jim nodded weakly. Seb could tell he wasn't completely lying… which was an improvement. He would be fine. But for how long?


	3. He lives in you from the fuckin lionking

~He lives in you, he lives in me. He's watching over everything we see.

Into the water. Into the truth. In your reflection. He lives in you.~

John sat in his husband's chair trying to read a newspaper. After two years Sherlock's scent was slowly fading away, although it still lingered faintly on the embroidered surface of the union jack pillow. "Daddy?" John closed the oversized paper with a rustle and looked up at his son as the small boy toddled into the room clutching the left foot of his teddy bear. He never went anywhere without that thing. Sherlock gave it to him...

"Hey Hal, everything ok?" John gave the paper another fold and placed it onto the floor next to his chair. When did it become his chair? Hamish nodded his tiny curls bouncing_. He looks so much like you. _John thought. _I wonder what you would think if you saw him now._ The boy stuck his thumb into his mouth and looked at John with huge eyes.

"Why don't I have a mummy?" He asked suddenly his eyes full of wonder. It took John by surprise and he was almost certain he heard the boy wrong.

"What?" John stuttered, hoping that he had just asked for a cuppa or even a puppy.

"Why don't I have a mummy? The other kids in my class said that it's weiwrd to not have one. Did I evewr have one?" _He has the same look in his eyes whenever he asks a question._

John sighed and pressed his lips into a thin line. Well he hadn't expected that one. Of course Hamish had only been two when Sherlock... "C'mere." John patted his lap, and the tiny Sherlock skipped over and climbed onto his dads lap, lugging his bear behind him.

"Well Hal you do have a mummy..."

"Are you my mummy?"

"What? No Hal I'm..."

"Then I don't have a mummy." Hamish nodded seriously. John laughed lightly and pulled his son closer.

"No, you don't really... you did have another daddy once though..."

"I did?"

"Yeah... You did." John said with a faint reminiscent smile.

"Why don't I now?" _'Why' it's his favorite word, you'd be proud_. John sighed. He knew this day would come.

"Well Hal ummm... He... He isn't here anymore..."

"Where'd he go?" Hamish demanded. John bit back tears.

"He... he..." Hamish didn't wait for him to answer, instead he fired another question at him and John had the strange feeling that he was in one of Sherlock's interrogations.

"Why did he go?"

John sucked in a deep breath, "If only I knew Hamish..."

"Did you love him?" John almost threw up with emotions, he wasn't sure what he was feeling right now. Everything? Nothing? This child, this wonderful, amazing, perfect child... He couldn't even.

"I did... I still do Hal." Hamish tugged at the ear of his bear, relishing the texture on his fingertips. He turned his gaze back to his dad.

"And he loved you I assume."

"Sure hope so." John chuckled lightly. "You don't remember him at all?" Hamish shook his head solemnly and looked towards the ground feeling suddenly nauseous.

"Will he ever come back?" The child squeaked.

"Don't think so love... I'm sorry." John reached up quickly to smudge a burning tear back into the contours of his worn face. Hamish whimpered quietly as he chewed on his bears nose. He pulled his son into a tight hug. "We can go see him... Sorta... but you have to be brave ok?" Hamish nodded once and made no other reaction. They sat in silence for a while, the emptiness flooded Johns mind, and instead of feeling a sense of peace, he felt like he was going to go mad. _Sherlock is this what happened to you, is this how your mind felt when you were 'bored'_? He wanted to scream and crawl out of his flesh.

"Will he be happy to see us?" Hamish said suddenly breaking the torturous bubble. The silence fell away when his question was asked. John nodded; more tears dripping lazily down his face.

"Yeah..." He choked out. " Yeah I think so."

...

Hamish fell asleep on the cab ride -despite it only being mid afternoon- his teddy still clutched firmly in one hand. He was nervous, John even ventured so far as to say he was scared. Nonetheless he was also excited, as all four year olds are when they are about to do something terrifying. John didn't want to wake him up yet. Once he paid the cab fare and gingerly lifted his son into his arms and out of the car he stood in front of the swirling magnificence of the iron gates and felt oddly unwelcome and insignificant despite visiting so often. He shook off the feeling immediately, took a deep breath and marched forward. You even make this place look beautiful... There was a hush that fell over the tombs, a deathly silence that John was afraid to break. It was oddly serine under the tall oaks that guarded the souls of the dead. He walked absently by the rows and rows of stones, and even though he passed them almost every day, if asked, he could not produce a single inhabitants name. There was only one stone he cared about. One. Out of the millions of swirling marble masterpieces -honestly they were quite amazing despite their grim purpose- in this morbidly beautiful finality. He could walk this path blindfolded in the depths of the blackest nights... although he really didn't want to, and never would, he had the secret ability. Finally he stopped in front of the least exquisite stone in his whole walk, the flat black expanse of marble stared back at him with his own face. The only break in its pristine mirror-like quality were two words. Two wonderful, heart breaking words. They were the bane of John's existence. But they were also his whole life, his entire world. Sherlock Holmes. Hamish began to stir in his arms and John quickly shifted the boy so that he could wipe off his tears before his son could see them, he'd notice that his dad was crying no matter what. He gets that from you. "Daddy?"

"Hullo love, welcome back." He teased. Hamish looked around him in confusion.

"This is a cemetewry." He looked down the rows or meticulously kept gravestones, it was a pretty classy cemetery John had to admit. "Does papa live here?" Hamish was young, but he understood where this conversation was heading. He knew that his father was a resident of this place... permanently.

"Yeah..." John licked his lower lip, he always did that when he was nervous, Hamish knew that much. Why was he nervous? "You... you wanna meet him?" The boy nodded vigorously. "You have to be brave remember..." Again the muscles in his neck worked to mover his skull up and down in the universal signal of 'yes'. John swallowed the lump in his throat, well tried to, it seemed that as long as Sherlock stayed here, the inconvenient muscle constriction of his throat would not loosen. He crouched slowly, the stiff fabric of his jeans resisting further flexing around his knees, to lower his son to the ground. Our son Sherlock. The boy was out of his arms now, and John felt strangely empty. He watched as Hamish walked gingerly over the place where Sherlock lay to press one chubby, miniscule hand onto the cold marble. It was said that a gravestone was a reflection of the person lying beneath it, a last memory above ground before they rot away and turn back into earth. But that was not the case here. It would seem, to most people, that Sherlock was cold and dark, as his stone said. He hated those people. For they did not know his madman at all. Is that what you thought of yourself love? He turned his attention back to their son, who was running one tiny finger across the hollow etching that lay over his father. His heart clenched painfully. There were no words to describe his emotions, it seemed that happened a lot around the Holmses. He stifled a tiny pitiful laugh. Hamish was whispering now, probably to his unknown father, as his warm pink cheek was pressed into the cool unyielding stone. John suddenly realized that, that was all he knew about Sherlock. Hamish realized it too.

"Daddy?" He asked suddenly turning around to face him.

"Hmm?" John looked up from the bland dirt separating him from the man he loved.

"What was he like?" Hamish asked, the spark of intense wonder was back in his eyes, or maybe it never left it, John wasn't sure. Sherlock would know.

"Amazing." John grinned, his eyes had a faraway look to them. "He could tell your entire lifes history just by looking at you! He could solve crimes that would take the whole of Scotland Yard days to do, in an hour. He was the most incredible person I've ever met and... I..." John cut himself off, and tried to cover his emotions with a smile. Hamish pretended to go along with it.

"Wow." He picked up the teddy that he had long ago dropped in the dirt. "Was he a superhewro?"

"Maybe..." John giggled, "He did have the right qualities..." Hamish giggled too.

"So he's not wreally dead then!"

John laughed sadly, "No... not really... not completely" Hamish cocked his head to the side.

"He's a zombie?"

John laughed again "No Hal... what I mean is that you have a little bit of him in you..."

"WHERE!" Hamish started frantically searching, he knew that if they could find a living cell they could grow his papa back. Why did he know that? Whatever, he decided that he would grow papa and give him to daddy on his birthday.

"Not literally Hal!" John laughed even harder. He would nit get into genetics with this child now. Oh if Sherlock were here he... John sighed, "I meant in here..." He rested one hand over Hamish's heart.

"Oh..." Understanding lit his eyes. "So in here too?" His tiny hand flew to the same spot on John's chest.

"Yeah..." A few tears dripped down his cheek. He really is amazing you know... so you. "He lives in you... and he lives in me... and he's a superhewro."

"He's alive in all that he loves..." John's voice hitched terribly on almost every word. Hamish leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him an attempt at comfort. John pulled him even closer and choked out a sob. Christ... Sherlock... why the hell did you leave us? they held eachother for a few minutes in silence, but not an awful one this time...

"Whadid he look like?" Hamish questioned His dad's shoulder. John smiled gently and let the embrace terminate.

"Turn around" he whispered, Hamish obeyed.

"My papa was a wrock?" He squeaked incredulously. John laughed.

"Look closer love." The boy squinted his eyes.

"Oh." John bit his lip to keep from breaking down into sobs, that one word was so impossibly Sherlock. "It's me?"

"You look impossibly like him..." John's grin had a melancholy tinge.

"I do?"

"Yeah... that's good for you Hal he was gorgeous." John teased.

"Blech!" The toddler stuck his tongue out.

"Oh you say that now, just you wait!" Hamish giggled again. "I have pictures of him at home if ya..."

"YES!" Hamish started bouncing, it was just about the cutest thing that John had ever seen.

"Allright, allright, I get it, guess that means..." John grinned evily and scooped the tiny child up into his arms and swung him around. Hamish shrieked in laughter as John began to walk away.

"WAIT!" Hamish struggled out of his dads grip and back onto the soft earth. He raced over to Sherlock's and placed his teddy bear down in front of it gingerly. "For you papa." He began to toddle back to John, but hesitated, turned back around, and pressed his lips to the marble. "I love you." He whispered. And then turned to walk once again into the outside world.

_A/N: Ok so it took me forever to figure out what that meant, but now I know and yup. So hullo der lovely readers :D I know we are all too lazy to do anything in life but sit here and go on tumblr because the feels are eating our souls and no programming is on and its fucking hot and we have no lives. Well maybe you do. I don't know, why would I, tat would be creepy. Ok so despite the amazing amount of effort it takes to log in (its really annoying I know :P) could ypu please review, or just literally say I read it or pineapple or pudding, I don't care, I'm pro randomtivity, just say SOMETHING! Please, I feel so alone, I owe you all so much, so a word would be lovely, it doesn't have to even be coherent, I never am when I talk. Hah I sound like a complete bitch now so I will stop making words happen. Its not my fault there are nargles mucking up my brain. So this is me officially shutting up :D. (also I will give whoever reviews a cookie, my eternal undying love, kittens and a hug.) I would also like to point out that Mufasa is a fucking sky lion and we should all take this moment to do something because of it, he is just so athorable and I find it really hard to keep my feels lo-ki. (I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry) _


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